


Some Odd Comfort

by wishfulcanadian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cute, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Mystery, Post-Canon, Some angst, some lowkey drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-08 23:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10398921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishfulcanadian/pseuds/wishfulcanadian
Summary: "Those were the salad days, eh, Potter?"Harry chuckled. "Not exactly," he said, his eyes clouding over lightly at the memories from decades ago. "But we killed Voldemort though, didn't we?"The other man's face softened. "Aye."It has been thirty years since a seventeen year old boy defeated the darkest wizard of all time, but whispers begin to spread of a stronger foe, with the death of a Muggle tourist by a rogue wizard. When adversity creeps closer, Harry James Potter isn't sure he is ready to die again. But he'll be damned if he didn't try to be a comfort to his friends and family in tragedy and joy.





	1. Some odd comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChiaraC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiaraC/gifts).



Harry James Potter was forty - four years old when it was pointed to him that he had somehow become a sort of a hug connoisseur.

 

It was ‘Bring your kids to work day’ at the Ministry of Magic’s Auror Office - a practice Harry had instated nearly two decades ago in his capacity as Head Auror - and the normally quietly buzzing cubicles were decorated with balloons and the white poster hung in the far corner of the room was stamped with colour changing hand prints. An odd Weasley indoor firework went off at intermittent intervals and several of the 138 Auror subordinates that worked in the Wiltshire building had brought their children to show them around their places of employment. Harry ducked away from the small crowd of ten year olds chasing a charmed aeroplane memo around the office, his arms tightening around the little toddler he carried in his arms.

 

Katherine Blackworth’s three-year-old daughter was an absolute delight.

 

Kat had been one of the first Aurors Harry had trained and perhaps, the first one who had become sort - of family, their boss-trainee relationship over the years developing into something more. Harry had handpicked her from Hogwarts - the only Hufflepuff in her year to make the cut - and had watched her fall in love with an estate realtor and stood as Best Man at her wedding. Harry had helped Kat and her wife with their adoption process and watched, teary - eyed, as the young couple adopted an abandoned magical child four months ago.

 

Reyna was gurgling in his arms and Harry smiled at her, pressing an open mouthed kiss over her curly head.

 

“Let’s get you to Mama, shall we?” he asked her, a grin tugging his lips. The baby gave him a toothy smile, snuggling into his arms more, her soft boot clad feet instinctively going around Harry’s waist and eyes beginning to droop. His heart warmed.

 

“I guess Vic and I better hurry up with all the grandkids, huh?” came a joking voice from a few feet away and Harry stood alert, arranging his features. He looked at Teddy sternly.

 

“No grandkids until I’m fifty,” he said, looking at his godson. Teddy’s crimson hit - wizard robes looked out - of - place at the Auror office and Harry greeted him with an one - armed hug, breathing in his familiar scent of aftershave. When he pulled back, Teddy was beaming. “I take it the mission went well?”

 

Teddy was a member of the small group of cryptographers who intercepted Magical communication and surveillance on behalf of the Ministry and a surprising piece of evidence correlating to the killing of a Muggle in Sicily by a suspected British Wizard who was now on the run had been found and the Director of DMLE, Gareth MacDonald, had sent Teddy and his partner to find out more from the ministry’s Muggle Liaison team stationed there.

 

Teddy nodded. “I just dropped off the report at your office.” He winced lightly when Harry raised an eyebrow. Lowering his voice, he continued, “Pretty nasty stuff, Harry. The guy’s unhinged.”

 

Harry pursed his lips. That much he had known when he had tagged the convict. He would need to make a decision by tonight and deploy an Auror Unit to Italy.

 

“You should go home,” Harry said, adjusting Reyna’s sleepy form. “Take some rest and come back so you can offer inputs when I talk to the ICW chief.”

 

Teddy’s eyes widened. “International Confederation of Wizards? This doesn’t come under their jurisdiction, does it?”

 

“We’ll need their help with the Italian Ministry. They don’t like British Aurors in their area of jurisdiction.”

 

Teddy shrugged, and a moment later, his eyes brightened mischievously.

 

“I heard James and Al are both here today,” he said, smirking. “How haven’t they burnt down your Department yet?”

 

Harry chuckled and cast his eyes over the general floor plan only to spot the similar mop heads of his eldest children with a few of the younger kids, obviously telling stories - if the golden sparks coming out of James’ wand was any indication.

 

“I think they’ve reached a detente. For now,” Harry added, absent - mindedly rubbing circles on Reyna’s back. “Ginny had to __Silencio__ them when they both came down to dinner last night.”

 

Harry sometimes didn’t understand his children at all. One moment, the boys were conspiring and laughing to take a common enemy down, and the next, they had their wands pressed at each others throats, eyes blazing in fury. The recent cause for tension, according to Freddie and Lily, looked to Harry to stem from something trivial, but apparently, it was enough for them to push aside their brotherhood and yap. James, it had so happened, was now dating Al’s ex - girlfriend, and Al, it seemed, wasn’t over the break - up.

 

It drove Ginny mad.

 

“Well,” Teddy said, “I think it’s overdue that I knock their heads together and take them out for a pint.”

 

Harry looked at his godson surprised. “You must be tired,” he insisted, “Andy will kill me if I didn’t send you straight home from work.”

 

Teddy chuckled, and said cheekily, “Good thing you’re the Head Auror and you have a __great__ wand, right?”

 

Harry sighed. “Get out of here,” he said fondly. “And behave. James doesn’t need another PR disaster after, you know, - “

 

“ - he fell from his broom during the League game.” Teddy nodded. The papers had been gleeful at the misery. ‘Starting Chaser for the English National Team can’t fly during first International Game’ had been pretty terrible for James’ confidence. “I’ll make sure we sneak into Muggle London.”

 

Harry smiled, relieved. “Good luck,” he said, and hugged Reyna a little tighter.

 

Teddy’s eyes narrowed a little. “She’s dreaming,” he said in wonder, pointing to the child in Harry’s arms. Harry looked down and saw that her round face was lifted up in a smile and her eyelashes appeared to glow. “Not surprising considering you are holding her the way babies are supposed to be held - according to Vic’s healer text books.”

 

Harry’s eyes bored into Teddy’s in confusion.

 

“You’re sort of cradling her,” Teddy elaborated, mimicking Harry. One arm was around an imaginary baby’s shoulder, and the other supported the legs. “Vic says babies think they’re cocooned and if you rock them gently, they’ll go to sleep.”

 

Harry looked at Reyna, and to his astonishment, saw that he was holding her the way Teddy had his arms around a bundle of air. “I suppose,” Harry allowed with a smile. “I’ve held every one of you the same way.”

 

“No you haven’t,” Teddy insisted to Harry’s surprise. “I was old enough to remember how you carried Lily around. You always held her loose and delicate, like you were afraid you were going to crush her, as a baby.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, but Teddy pressed on. “And well, when you hug __me__ , even now, you always loop your hands around my back. With James, it’s usually a headlock, and you hug Al the tightest.”

 

Harry’s mouth half opened in surprise. “Really?”

 

“Really,” Teddy confirmed and from the corner of his eye, spotted James standing up in the middle of the small crowd and marching away and Al following his brother’s figure with a malicious grin. The little children were sniggering at whatever had transpired between the brothers. “Looks like it’s time for me to take them off your hands.”

 

“Right,” Harry said roughly. “Drop by the house sometime this week.”

 

Teddy patted Reyna’s sleeping back gently and smiled at Harry. “Will do. I bet all of us will be invited to the Malfoy Manor on Friday. Scorp’s turning seventeen, and Uncle Draco likes showing off his newly restored garden.”

 

Harry harrumphed. Who would have thought his son would be best friends with the son of his nemesis?

 

“Very well. Don’t let them drink too much, okay? James needs to be at practice by six tomorrow morning.”

 

“I won’t let them drink too much,” Teddy promised, and with a wink that belied his promise, he was gone. Harry breathed out a sharp gust of air, bounced Reyna a little to shift her weight from his forearm, and went in search of her mother.

 

__

 

Harry was reading Teddy’s report about networking with the locals in the magical province of Messina in Sicily to get a clearer picture of the now Wanted British Wizard - average build and wheatish complexion was how eye witnesses testified before being Obliviated - when Harry’s immediate superior, Director MacDonald, walked into Harry’s office with no warning.

 

The festivities of the day were long over, and Harry had decided to catch a quiet break in his office reviewing case files on his desk before he left home for the night. His office was a practical square room with no personal decorations except for his Auror certificate encased in a gold frame hanging on the wall, and a family photo taken in front of the Hogwarts Express when it was Lily’s turn to board the train. Andy and Teddy had fit in nicely with the rest of the Potter family, and the picture flickered every now and then because of the steam rising from the engine that obscured the camera lens. Harry had chosen the familiar Gryffindor colours for his office, and his cherry wood desk and chairs were made by the same carpenter who furnished his private study at home.

 

“Potter,” grumbled the Director good - naturedly on seeing that Harry was still working, “you really should get home before you drop dead from over exertion.”

 

Harry clacked his tongue at the remark, and without looking up from the last page of Teddy’s report fired back with equal camaraderie, “I’m forty years younger than you, Director. I am sure that you will pass on before I do, from all the work done on Wednesday Nights.”

 

The former British Representative to the ICW and the interim Supreme Mugwump chuckled at that. Harry and him had worked together ever since he was promoted to his current position after the seat for the Director of DMLE reverted back to the Wizengamot floor around fifteen years ago when former Minister Shacklebolt, deciding to not run for re - election, had surrendered his additional position of DMLE head.

 

Gareth had worked with Moody first before getting transferred to the DoM and finally becoming a diplomat with Her Majesty’s government to keep the Prime Minister and the Monarch aware of the circumstances in the wizarding world during the first war with Voldemort.

 

“Anything interesting?” the Director asked, curiously pointing at the file Harry had not stopped reading since he came into the office. Harry, in response, only pulled out an enchanted highlighter from his pen stand and ran it over the piece of parchment. Once he had read over the last few lines of the report, he closed it, and then let out a deep breath.

 

“I don’t like that we don’t know his name yet, Gareth,” Harry confessed. “It’s a new low; even for us. His appearance from passive __legilimency__  is closer to __no one__ we have had on our suspect files. If, going by the assumption of him using a Polyjuice potion and disgusing self as a Muggle, it is still worrying that Teddy and Martha haven’t found anything conducive from the Muggle authorities. Makes me feel like we are dealing with a possible unregistered Metamorphmagus. Or, someone who is __extremely__ skilled with Disguising Charms.”

 

Gareth hummed, and it led Harry to believe that the DIrector had reached the same conclusion. His light eyes sparked with curiosity. “What do you think should be our next course of action?”

 

Harry stared at him, stunned, and wondered if this was some kind of test. The insides of his throat seemed a bit dry, and so he cleared them, and wet his lips nervously.

 

“I think we should have a team of Death Wizards from the DoM perform a magical autopsy, and find if we can trace the Magical signature,” Harry stated. The body was withheld by the Italian authorities, and since it had only been two days since the International incident had happened, Harry knew that the body, if it had been placed in magical stasis, could still retain the effects of a magical curse. It was not an unconventional protocol, by any means, and it been performed before. “If the wizard “- or witch, he added mentally because of the Polyjuice - “is not someone whose wand is registered in the British Isles, we should move through back channels and cross check with the MACUSA or the NCF and see if any of our European allies might help us in locating the identity of the criminal.”

 

Gareth’s face remained impassive. “And if __nothing__ substantial turned up?”

 

Harry met the other man’s face steadily. “We close the case.”

 

The shock on Gareth MacDonald’s face reminded Harry of Oliver Wood’s face when he was told the Quidditch tourney was canceled during his second year at Hogwarts.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because criminals get sloppy,” Harry said simply. “Once he knows that we have publicly closed the case and that we are no longer looking for him, he would be cocky, and be sure to slip up.”

 

“You believe that this is not an one - time offence?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. But muggle baiting is not something I have seen in many years, and if the dangerous rhetoric is coming back, I think we would do very well to keep our eyes peeled.”

 

Gareth nodded in agreement, but still probed Harry further. “What if the criminal is never found?”

 

Harry leaned back and contemplated the question for several minutes. In the end, though, he smiled grimly. “Then we will go to our beds knowing we tried our best and justice will __always__ be served. Sometimes, even if it was not us doling it out.”

 

__

 

Harry found Ginny making edits to the Prophet's Sports section when he stepped in through the fireplace, taking extra care to not get soot on his wife's favourite carpet.

 

It wasn't any surprise for Harry to note that she was still working, despite it being over nine; Thursday was when she tried to cap the Sports news cycle so she could free Friday for the follow up news from the previous day. Saturday was for long form analyses with experts, and Sunday was a warm - up to another busy week long news cycle that she controlled.

 

“Hi honey,” she said absent mindedly when she heard Harry step into the living room, and smiled brightly at him. On noting his dull countenance, she asked carefully, “Tough day at work?”

 

“You could say that,” Harry said tiredly, leaving his briefcase on the floor and covering the distance to kiss his wife who was reclining on the comfortable couch. The tips of his fingers still brushed against her soft hair when he pulled back. “Teddy's back.”

 

Ginny’s relief was palpable. “Good,” she said, and hurriedly hid all the contents under a cushion and patted the empty space next to her for Harry to sit down. “I take it the mission was successful?”

  
Harry didn't want to lie to his wife, but he was bound by Oath to keep the secrets of any investigation to himself. Looking at her earnest face, Harry quickly blurted out the thing that had been bothering him since he left his office at the Ministry.

 

“MacDonald wanted me to know how to steer the case forward.”

 

Ginny frowned. “Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, it usually happens, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry admitted belatedly and tried to shake off the feeling of discomfort that trailed him home even minutes after his confrontation with the Director in his office. “It was different this time. He usually __debates__ why and frustrates me to no end so I end up agreeing to his game plan, but today he didn’t say a word.”

 

“Ah,” Ginny said, the slopes of her face smoothing in understanding of her husband’s predicament. She patted his thigh. “He’ll get over his good mood soon enough.”

 

Harry made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a snort at the thought of Gareth MacDonald refusing to question him thoroughly on his skills to handle a case - and ultimately becoming less grouchy. He pulled out his wand, and with a practised swish, a coffee table materialised before the couch. Ignoring Ginny’s distasteful glare, Harry slumped in his seat and stretched out his legs languidly on the conjured furniture.

 

“Anyway,” he said, and loosened the first few buttons of his heavy overcoat. “Lily’s not coming back until tomorrow, right?”

 

“Yup. Angelina must be going spare at the thought of __all__ of Roxy’s female cousins in the same place for the night.”

 

Harry grinned. “Think we could convince her to permanently lock them inside Roxy’s room with no wand so none of them underage can leave for Hogwarts in two weeks?”

 

Ginny nudged him painfully. “You’re only saying that because you’re a misogynistic hypocrite who doesn’t want your daughter to start dating Clarence Wood when she gets on that train.”

 

“He’s a __boy__ ,” Harry whined rubbing the spot where his wife had maimed him. “And it’s her OWL year. She doesn’t __need__ any distractions. Besides, he seems like a creep.”

 

“Harry James, we have known Oliver Wood since we were in school, and his kids are a __great__ testament to their mother,” she said dryly.

 

“He says he wants to kiss her!”

 

“Which,” Ginny said calmly, “you wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t intercepted his letter to her, and then insisted on reading it putting your __child__ in a weak Body Blind when you figured out it was from a boy.”

 

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled unintelligibly. Ginny wasn’t amused.

 

“Stop behaving like my brother, Potter.”

 

“Which one, __Potter__?” he shot back.

 

Before Ginny could say anything, however, a loud crack from outside the house made Harry stand up in alert immediately, his wand jumping to his hand as his eyes scanned for an imminent threat. When he spotted that it was only Teddy dragging home a drunk Albus through the large glass window to his right, he relaxed. Ginny followed his gaze and remarked, “Ah, so our wayward sons return.”

 

Harry’s wand was still loosely in his hand as we went to open the door. Old habits die hard, he supposed, and even when he saw the shocking head of turquoise hair supporting an obviously passed - out Al, he held his wand in front of Teddy’s face.

 

“Why did your grandmother ground you when you were eight?”

 

Teddy’s lips cocked up in a strange, uneasy smile. “I burnt a picture of my parents because she wouldn’t tell me anything about them.” Even after Harry had dropped his wand into his holster, and took Al’s weight off of his godson, Teddy continued. “You broke into the house with your Cloak and took me flying and told me that my dad was the most honorable man he knew.”

 

“That’s right,” Harry quipped with difficulty, as he moved away from blocking the doorway so Teddy could cross into the threshold. One of Al’s limp arms was around Harry’s neck, and his son’s stale breath that stank of Irish pubs and fish, made Harry wrinkle his nose in distaste. “James reach home okay?” He called after Teddy who was being warmly greeted by Ginny with a peck.

 

“Yep,” Teddy replied, running a hand through his colourful hair. “Surprisingly, he stuck to beer and left a while before Al started entertaining a group of birds by dancing to the Bossa Nova. They’re still fighting, but I made it clear to James that he was being a cuck by flaunting his new relationship before his brother.”

“Nice work,” Ginny praised, patting Teddy’s back. Both her and Hermione were trying to tell James the same thing for a few weeks now. “You want some cuppa?”

 

“No, thanks, Gin,” Teddy declined and gestured to the fireplace. “I need to go home. Gran probably made meat casseroles.”

 

“Well, you wouldn’t want to eat soggy sandwiches for dinner, then?” Ginny’s eyes were dancing with mirth. Teddy chuckled.

 

“I’ve __got__ to pass up.” Looking at Harry, struggling to support Al, he asked, worried. “He’ll be okay?”

 

“We’ll make sure he is,” Harry said firmly. “Al’s a good kid.”

 

“A kid who is heavier than the Beater on the Slytherin team,” Ginny remarked, and pulling out her wand from the folds of her dress, shot a Lightening Charm on her son. Harry immediately relaxed, finding that he could support his son better now. He mouthed a ‘thank you’ at his wife, and slowly made his way to the stairs that would lead to Al’s room on the first landing. Halfway through the stairs, he heard Ginny tell Teddy, “Head Auror for twenty years, still can’t use his head to cast __Hominum Gravitas Pinna__.”

 

Harry made sure he grunted loudly at his wife’s statement - which she would presumably ignore - and pushed open the door of Al’s room. The room was lit only by his dim night lamp that he had left ‘ON’ and Harry sighed as he let his son plop down on his large bed. Pulling out his wand, he cast a silent __Finite__ and removed Al’s shoes from his feet, and pulled the wool quilt that Molly had made him in Slytherin green after Al was sorted into the House over the lower part of his body.

 

Out of his three children, perhaps Albus was the one that was most similar to Harry.

 

Sure, James was in Gryffindor, but he was more boisterous and brash than Harry had ever been in school. James reminded Harry of the Weasley twins when they wreaked havoc through Hogwarts, and with Freddie being his partner - in - crime, Harry and Ginny received letters from school often with complaints from the boys’ teachers about their tenacity to blow up things or try and push the limits of the Hogwarts rule book. Ginny and Harry wrote a strong worded reprimand to the boys, and then secretly got together with George and Angelina to laugh about the ingenuity of it all.

 

Lily, Harry rarely worried about. She had inherited the brains from her mother - thank Merlin for __that__ \- and since Ginny had been in the near top of all her classes, Harry’s only job as a traditional parent was to tell his Ravenclaw daughter how proud he was of her, and how much he loved her every so often. (Despite the fact that she had perfected the Disarming Spell __and__ the Bat Bogey Hex in her third year, and several anonymous “reports” suggested that she had used it one her brothers when they annoyed her.) Harry was mostly content in listening to Lily’s rants about witch inequality - something that Hermione encouraged - and reading her long letters about how well she was enjoying school, and perhaps Harry could, without telling her mother, send her some boxes of Muggle chocolates?

 

Al, though, was the best of Ginny and the worst of Harry.

 

He was passionate and broody, had the brightest of grins when someone could get him to lighten up and a dry wit that escaped many. Al could use __anything__  to his advantage, and he would do so while insulting anyone who doubted him in a way that made the other person think they were just complimented. Harry remembered his teenage years, when he had had Voldemort in his head, and his anger was always resentment, and he had been so determined to overcome each of his shortcomings.

 

Well, looking at Al, Harry knew that __Voldemort__ hadn’t been behind any of his moods.

 

His hand stretched out to brush against his son’s unruly hair, and Harry savoured the feel of his smooth forehead, without the marring of any scars. Instinctively, he bent over Al’s unconscious form and kissed his brow. Al stirred, so Harry sat quietly next to him, and waited for the identical emerald eyes to open.

 

“Dad?” Al asked, sitting up with great difficulty. “What - Am I home?”

Harry repressed the urge to ‘aw’ at the adorableness. Al rarely let his guard down - even with family - especially now that he had grown taller and lankier than Harry had been at his age.

 

“Hey, mate,” he said quietly, “How’s your head doing?”

 

Al blinked furiously, and his hands shot up to rub his throbbing head. “I think I drank a lot.” With a grimace, he searched for his wand in his pant pockets, and then pressed it against his temple and muttered, “ _ _Lineo__.”

 

The furrow between his eyebrows disappeared, and he looked less pale in the yellow light.

 

“You’re getting better,” Harry commented carefully. Al stiffened imperceptibly, but he gave his father a hesitant smile. Feigning enthusiasm, Harry asked him, “Can you do it non - verbally?”

 

“Not yet,” Al said, shifting to lean his back against the headboard. “But Professor Flitwick says I’ll be ready for NEWTs.”

 

Harry smiled genuinely this time, and squeezed Al’s shoulder. “That’s brilliant news, Al. What about Professor Goldstein?”

 

Al shrugged. “We are working on a way to find how non - verbal Transfiguration could work for me. He says it will be interesting if I could manage to conjure or vanish things with just the wand movements. No one before me - with dyslexia, I mean - had been able to do it, apparently. The closest to success was a Muggleborn witch named Penelope Clearwater who got an AA in her Practicals for NEWT. But, she was a

 

“Your Uncle Percy dated her for a while when we were in school,” Harry said in surprise. He hadn’t heard the name Clearwater in years. “Maybe you should talk to him and see if he can put you in touch with her.”

 

Al brightened visibly. “That would be splendid.”

 

Harry smiled. “Of course. I don’t think she took a job with the Ministry, though. So, perhaps she chose to go back into the Muggle world.”

 

“Maybe,” Al concurred, and after a quiet pause, looked at Harry with a vulnerable look on his face that took Harry’s breath away. Al hadn’t looked at Harry like this in a long time. “Dad, you or Mum wouldn’t mind if I don’t go into the Ministry or the Prophet, right?”

 

Harry hoped his surprise didn’t reflect on his face. In the subconscious, perhaps, Harry had known when Al dropped Potions and DADA in favour of Arithmancy and History of Magic during his Sixth Year that Al wasn’t hoping to follow him into the Auror department. That he was giving up hopes of becoming a journalist was surprising to Harry, mostly because Al had done a four week internship with the Evening Herald at the start of summer.

 

“Of course,” he assured his son, “Really, Al. Mum and I only want you to be happy, and if you want to do something else, we would totally support you.”

 

Al’s relief was palpable but he was still hesitant. With a quiet voice, he asked, “Then, can I apply at a Muggle University?”  

 

Harry was floored now. Clearing his throat, he tried to get the words out of his wind pipe, where they seemed to have found a temporary home.

 

“A University?”

 

“Yes,” said Al, rubbing his nape nervously. “Lucy starts Sixth Form in a year, and she said she might apply at King’s or Oxford after, so I thought I could join her too.”

 

Harry still didn’t know what to say, but he figured if he could get Al talking, it would save him from hurting Al inadvertently by saying something insensitive about his learning difficulties.

 

“But - “

 

“She’s a Squib,” Al interrupted, a faint smile on his face. “I know, and I’m not __saying__ I want to go to Oxford because I am struggling with magic and stuff - Merlin knows I’m __much__ better trained now - but Dad, I just like the novelty of starting afresh, somewhere where ‘Potter’ is a common surname.”

Harry could understand his son’s reasoning. It hadn’t been hard for any of his children - including Teddy - to have a childhood free of the media frenzy at any of their public appearances. Al’s dyslexia seemed to be a gossip rag favourite; ‘Wizarding Weekly’ had written a two - page special edition process story on Al’s mediocre OWL scores and had somehow obtained all of his transcripts from the previous four years that placed him as a very average student. Harry had retorted with a lawsuit and had won retributions at a full Wizengamot hearing.

 

That had been a difficult Summer. Ron and Hermione had had a nasty falling out, and she had moved out to Gloucester with the kids, and Al had begun to lock himself up in his room without meals for days. The strain had been unbearable, and Harry had come home one day to find Ginny sobbing in the kitchen over a Mother’s Day card that the children had made in primary school.

 

Everyone assumed Al was okay now, and that he had come to realise that he wouldn’t be as good at magic as anybody in his illustrious family, and that he _knew_ nobody in that said family loved him any less because of it. Al’s strength was breaking down theory, and analytics; that was why he was near the top of his class in Arithmancy. Harry himself had believed that Al had begun to even enjoy Hogwarts months after the very public and humiliating reveal of his scores, but looking at the boy whose shoulders were hunched and whose eyes had a sadness in them, Harry wondered since when his son had started hiding himself from his family.

 

“Are you sure?” He asked Al, taking in the staunch set of his jaw, and thought,if this was how Sirius had seen in him when he offered sanctuary.

 

Harry hated thinking about his godfather - the ache still hadn’t subsided - but __now__ , Harry let Sirius’ unconditional warmth and compassion overwhelm him as he watch Al battle with himself to make a decision that could change his life. Finally, he looked up and said, “I am.”

 

Harry’s belly fluttered, and he smiled encouragingly at his son. “We’ll start looking at some local schools for Sixth Form and see if I can pull some strings so they allow you to take your qualifying exams.”

 

Al’s face brightened with relief and when he spoke his voice was scratchy. “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

Harry held out his arms for a hug, and Al accepted it eagerly. “Just doing my job,” Harry said as he embraced him close to his chest, one palm flat against the back of his head, fingers in his scalp, and the other hand rubbing soothingly on his back. “I love you too, Al, and I am so proud of you.”

 

\--

 

 


	2. 2. the curious case of the ICW

The grumbling of his stomach woke Harry up at half past four in the morning.

 

Harry’s body had always been adjusted to irregular meal hours, but it still surprised those who knew him that he could function for several days relying only on his magical reserves and without solid food. Harry usually grabbed dinner in the small bistro at the Ministry with whatever group of Aurors were in office when he left, and Harry hadn’t eaten last night, figuring the three pieces of chocolate truffle cake he had eaten in the evening was enough to get him through the night without any hungry lurch of his stomach.

 

He was in his pyjamas, and had shed the garish Chudley Cannons jersey and stood half - naked and perspiring in the kitchen, rummaging the shelves for a ready made pie. The door to his bedroom swung open with a loud neigh and closed back shut, and Harry was aware of the soft pattering of Ginny’s footsteps when he was opening a tin can of tomato soup and cream.

 

“Hey,” she said, groggily. His wife had never been a morning person. “What are you doing up so early?”

 

Harry held up the soup and chuckled when she was still rubbing her eyes.

 

“Morning, honey,” he said sipping the last of the warm fluid, and patted his stomach in satisfaction. She hummed, her eyes barely opening as she picked out a dry cup and a tray of teabags. Harry waited until she added sugar and dipped the Instant Jasmine Teabag into the water and took a sip before hugging her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. Ginny was more awake now, and she responded to his affections in kind, relaxing completely in his arms. “Can’t sleep?”

 

He already knew the answer. Ginny probably awoke because she was so used to sleeping in their bed with all her limbs entangled with his and her hair in his mouth that she gave up on sleep when she found that his side of the bed was empty.

 

“Now that I’ve had some tea, I __definitely__ won’t be going back to bed anytime soon,” she confessed, despite her loud yawn. “ _ _You__ , on the other hand, sir, need to sleep for a bit more. You’ve been pulling your weight at the office for several days now, and I don’t want you collapsing in the middle of your Department review because of exhaustion.”

 

Harry smiled at her concern and nuzzled her throat, peppering kisses on the side of her face. “I have to go to work in an hour today,” he told her softly, tugging at her earlobe with his lips. “I need to brief the Minister.”

 

Ginny snorted into her cup.

 

“The minister doesn’t come in until eight,” his wife said absent - mindedly, hissing a bit when Harry’s stubble prickled against a sensitive spot on her shoulders. “You just want to sit in the DoM briefing room and watch the ICW negotiations.”

 

Harry laughed against her skin, his head light headed at the sweet smelling scent that clung to her. He loved how much she loved his obsession with unraveling mysteries.

 

“In my defence, I really __really__ want to learn some of the Italian curse words,” he joked, spinning her around in his arms so that she faced him now. Her tea cup was nearly empty and Harry plucked it out of her hand and laid it in the sink, knowing that she did not usually drink the last few drops of water that contained tea dust. “Now, where were we?”

 

Ginny stood on her tip toes and kissed him. Harry thought belatedly when her tongue was inside his mouth that he would never get tired of kissing Ginny Weasley.

 

His hands were busy - and so were hers - massaging the stiff muscles of his neck and shoulders as they continued kissing, and it was only when Harry went to undo the loose belt around her night robe, hoping to take advantage of the empty kitchen, that she pulled away from him.

“You’ll be late for work,” she said, her eyes gleaming darkly. Her short hair forked out haphazardly, and her lips looked pinker. “And I need to check in on James. See if I should set off a Caterwauling Charm in his flat to wake him up for practice.”

 

Harry sighed, dropping his fingers from her waist. “Jim’s not going to like it. He’ll claim that he’s dying of embarrassment.”

 

Ginny’s lips thinned into a line. “I’m his mother. He better know by now that I exist for the sole purpose of embarrassing him.”

 

Harry shook her head at her in fondness and said, “I’m going to hop into the shower.”

 

He had only walked a few paces when she called out to him. Harry paused mid step and turned his torso half - around and found her leaning casually against the counter top, her palms pressed on the granite slab to support her weight. Her legs were crossed tantalizingly over each other and she was smirking.

 

“About the other thing,” she said deliberately drawing out the syllables, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “When are you coming home tonight?”

 

\--

 

Harry whistled the tune of an old Weird Sisters song as he walked the isolated streets of London.

 

It appeared to have rained lightly sometime during the night, and Harry’s boots squelched noisily as he kept on trodding ahead to the hidden alley a few feet ahead on his left. The city was waking up as the first rays of sun struggled to cut through the persistent fog, and Harry passed a Muggle policeman who was out early doing the rounds. The man looked at Harry curiously, but kept moving ahead in his path, seemingly having forgotten that a cheerful stranger was walking hurriedly to disappear into a narrow dead - end with a suspicious looking suitcase.

 

Harry smiled mentally, satisfied. The thrill he felt when the mild Notice - Me - Not he had placed on himself before he left from home worked, was a novelty he didn’t think he would get used to. Simple things about magic still managed to surprise Harry, and that too, in the best way possible.

 

The corner of the deserted back street had a bright red phone box that stood garishly against the dark and the sinister that oozed from the brick walls, and Harry neatly stepped in, making sure to cast a perfunctory glance to see if he had been followed. Satisfied, he pressed in the numbers that would take him into the Ministry, and held his breath for the pull in his navel as he was thrown __through__ the walls at an indescribable speed, and before he knew it, he was standing in the stark grey Ministry lobby.

 

Simple grey wooden desks and chairs were arranged in a circle in the plain room, and Harry knew that the lack of any color was intended to throw people off. The first time he had stepped in after the War, he had been so anxious that he had dropped his wand on the floor.

 

There were only three chairs occupied, and Harry briskly went up to the fresh faced wizard who looked to be slumping in his chair, and placed his holly wand before him.

 

The boy - he looked to be one of the new recruits at the Surveillance Squad - and intoned, “State your name and purpose please.”

 

“Harry James Potter,” Harry said, and paused for effect. “Head of the Auror and Surveillance Squads.”

 

The result of his introduction was instantaneous.

 

The wizard sat up straight and with shaky hands, lifted up Harry’s wand and placed it into a translucent ball of a fluid that floated in the space between them. Barely a few seconds passed before a low whistle sounded and Harry’s wand flew back into his hand, and Harry felt the familiar warmth of the phoenix core.

 

“All clear, Auror Potter,” the boy said nervously, and Harry smiled.

 

“First week?” he asked kindly, and was a bit astonished to see the look of surprise on his face. The boy blushed lightly and took his time before answering.

 

“Yes,” he said softly, and blushed again. Harry wondered if he was scary. He knew that he was a bit of a legend among the new members of the Ministry in the last few years - what with him going down to Hogwarts for a few guest lectures at the behest of McGonagall - but he really didn’t think he inspired fear.

 

One of the many fireplaces in the room roared to life, and an irate witch in her maroon robes stepped out, her hair bedraggled. Harry wondered if it had started raining again.

 

“I’ll leave you to work then,” he said to the boy, and then stopped in his tracks and called out without turning back. “For a rookie, you’re doing a good job, lad.”

 

In his peripheral vision, Harry could see that his chest had puffed up. __Good__ , he thought in satisfaction, and walked through the wall between fireplaces again. The whole room was heavily warded, and if Harry hadn’t gotten his wand checked, the walls would have been solid when he passed through.

 

Surprisingly, this had been Ron’s idea, back when his best mate still worked at the Auror Office. During their last year of Auror training, each of them had to perform a thorough analysis of the ministry’s security and carry out a capstone project on a model of the Ministry to earn a part of their grade.

 

Ron had been motivated by Dobby who had sealed the wall between platforms 91/2 and 10 at King’s Cross when they were in Second Year, and with help from Bill, had succeeded in the assignment and gotten the approval from Minister Shacklebolt himself to have it implemented to the Ministry - effective immediately after their graduation from the program.

 

Harry’s own capstone was pretty simple; change the layout of the Ministry.

 

It had been deemed equal parts “ingenious” and “lazy” from his reviewers, but by the end of six weeks, Harry had restructured the Ministry of Magic to make it an impenetrable fortress - even from the inside. Gawain Robards, the Head Auror then, had pulled Harry aside after his review was over, and had talked Harry into presenting it in front of the Wizengamot and convince them into approving of his plans.

 

It took the better part of seven years, but Harry had done it. Yelled until his throat was sore, won Wizard’s Duels, and simply used his fame to gain funds for his plan. All while helping the understaffed Auror Department to catch and imprison the remaining Death Eaters. So, when four years after the Wizengamot gave Harry the control of the project, he was promoted to the position of the Head of the Auror Department, no one said anything discriminatory, and if there had been any grumblings of him not deserving it that were very quickly silenced before Harry had had a chance to hear them.

 

There weren’t many employees in the atrium, but Harry could see that the 24/7 bistro that was run by a witch and two House - Elves was up and running, and his stomach grumbled predictably.

 

“Good morning,” he greeted the middle aged witch whose eyes barely widened at the sight of the imposing man standing before her. “I’ll have a bagel and a coffee, please.”

 

“10 sickles, 3 knuts,” said the witch, bored. Harry nodded, and counted the appropriate coins at dropped it on the glass counter. In a flash, his order materialised before his eyes, and he gave a smile to the House - Elf looking up at him with beady eyes. “Thanks.”

 

The long walk to the center of the Ministry gave Harry the time to finish his bagel.

 

The air in here was definitely warmer than the upper floors owing to it being several hundred feet below the bustling streets of London, and Harry removed his tweed trench coat to reveal his expertly cut Auror robes. His Head badge was pinned to his chest, next to a shining silver badge with a golden lapel, - the signia he was required to wear on him at all times as a recipient of the Order of Merlin (First Class) - and a coiled dragon pin holding his collars close that would act as an emergency portkey if he pressed its ruby eyes. The Ministry of Magic’s seal was knitted into his breast flaps, and Harry quickened his pace, nodding at a pair of aides running in the direction opposite to him to go upstairs, probably.

 

This was the deepest level in the Ministry, and the most fortified for it contained only two large, circular rooms.

 

The office of the Minister for Magic, and the War Room where any negotiations or matters of International or National Security were discussed. The level above was the Wizegamot chamber and several offices for the Members holding office. Harry’s own personal office - because he was an Order of Merlin recipient - was locked, and he only used it during the first session of the year.

 

The long, seemingly endless corridors Harry walked through were mind - numbingly confusing with thin, pulsing lines of light running criss - cross over the black marbles and the endless ceiling, that were the only sources of light. For those without the security clearance to walk through, it would look like an abyss, with nary a sound coming from anywhere.

 

Harry reached the circular room quickly enough, passing the Minister’s extensive offices.

 

MacDonald was already here, bleary eyed and freshly shaved, and Harry thrust in his hand the steaming hot cup of coffee. The man only grunted.

 

“Right on time, Potter,” he said, gesturing to the woman making her way down the stairs and to the centre of the room surrounded by shimmering shields and took her place in the chair in between two wizards, and scribes hidden in the shadows. The setting resembled several of the Muggle control rooms from the spy movies that Ginny and his kids had a fondness for, except most of the knobs that were linked to the large projection screen before the table that displayed a muted shouting match were powered by crystals and magic as a substitute for electricity. “de Silva won’t talk to anyone, and is picking a fight with the American about their sanctioning of two Auror units and legislators to India to help them form a unified magical body.”

 

Harry grimaced. Most of the people he worked with from varying departments in the ministry didn’t even care at the American’s strategic move when a Tribal Indian Witch appeared before the ICW weeks ago to present her findings on healing magic, and expressed her hope for a unified governing magical body like the MACUSA. The Wizarding community in India - although substantially suspected to be larger - had so far stayed hidden from their Muggle counterparts, existing in smaller towns and villages, and homeschooling their children. The more paranoid Ministry Unspeakables - Markus Bradford, to be certain - said America’s move was world domination and that by extending their free services, America was becoming a Leader and had plans to overthrow the Ministry.

 

Yeah, Bradford was running for Minister next year on the promise to control MACUSA.

 

Harry and his boss were themselves positioned several feet from the Ring for a perfect vantage point and were similarly behind a shield that prevented from hearing any conversation on the other side until a wand is plugged into the row of holsters before them. Several ranking members of the DMLE Negotiations Committee were milling about in the room drinking from the supply of scones and tea that the Ministry House Elves had charmed to be warm and self replenishing. A familiar wizard in a deep plum robe with a shocking red head of hair, leaned over to whisper in the Director’s ear, and Harry almost stumbled forward when he spotted the thin face and huge, horn - rimmed glasses framing said visage.

 

“Percy!” he breathed, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

 

Harry’s brother - in - law reached behind MacDonald’s back and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Special counsel to the case,” he said grimly. “Jones put me on this last night.”

 

Harry briefly wondered what help Percy might be to the investigation, before it struck him that the other man had been shadowing the Italian Ministry and oversaw the efforts undertaken by their judicial system into helping Thicknesse go into isolation. It had been revealed publicly that the Imperiused former Minister of Magic had killed an Italian envoy of witches and wizards when they wanted to prevent Voldemort’s ascension of power. The Italian Ministry had spared his life out of pity, and considering the man was under the Imperius Curse, and offered an isolated asylum for a period of fifty years and constant surveillance.

 

“Let’s settle down, shall we?” MacDonald indicated at the smattering of chairs that had appeared in the room. “I think O’Neill’s going in for the kill.”

 

Conversation stilled as all of those who gathered took their seats behind Harry, the Director, and Percy. Harry winced at the glaringly empty seat. Lowering his voice, he asked MacDonald, “Where’s the Supreme Mugwump?”

 

MacDonald stared resolutely ahead, and with an angry movement of his wrist, placed his wand in the holster which glowed briefly. The room became hushed with silence and from below, Harry and the others could hear the loud brogue of the Irish head of the coalition, Sean O’Neill.

 

“ - oh, you’re walking a thin line here, Mister Representative!” shouted O’Neill, his thick slurs more pronounced with anger as he waved his closed fist at a self - satisfied blonde man in a Muggle tuxedo, the American flag and the seal of the MACUSA visible behind him. “The British and the Irish Ministries of Magic did __everything__ they could to prevent the Dragon Pox epidemic of ‘94 in the States. But your folks were just too __proud__ for your own good to accept the assistance of our healers and our potion masters.”

 

“It was not the offer, Mister O’Neill,” the American wizard said smoothly, “it was the __manner__ of which it was offered to us. It is very humiliating that our cousins across the sea would still treat us as lesser wizards and witches.”

 

O’Neill’s face, it looked, threatened to burst with all the anger he was suppressing. “Oh, fu - “

 

The Director pulled out his wand and looked at the faces who were staring at him curiously, and said, “Well, anybody have a bloody idea how we are going to outmaneuver the Americans and the Italians?”

 

\---

 

Diplomacy, Harry Potter thought with a harsh grimace on his face, was like being a Niffler in a nest of golden dragon eggs; Just with the angry mother dragon threatening to blow you into a pile of ash circling a few metres overhead. Harry readily poured for himself a healthy amount of sweetened black coffee and squeezed a lemon wedge and downed the dark liquid, not minding the way the heat scorched his throat and tongue. Absent mindedly, he unwrapped a mini Ice Mice on the tray next to the coffee maker and popped it into his mouth and relaxed as coolness healed whatever tissue might have withered because of the coffee’s heat.

 

If Harry was developing a headache dealing with the diplomatic court for just under two hours, he didn’t even __want__ to think what all those ICW wizards and witches in purple robes and silver badges were going through. It had turned out that there was a reason MACUSA was involving itself in this conflict.

 

The Muggle tourist that was killed was Irish American, and in a sudden flip flop that had occurred after the knowledge was out in the open, Harry could now see why Ireland was encouraging the American Representative to be smug and bait everyone into playing defense in the negotiations. The Irish were usually better than the Scots when it came to co - operation with the British Ministry but today, it seemed to Harry that even they had had it with the Brits.

 

Harry loathed all the snake speak and was immensely glad that the Sorting Hat had placed him in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. He liked straight forward people, and those that were blunt were the ones who got through to him. If Harry had spent __seven__ years as a Slytherin at school, he believed he would have gone spare before he killed Voldemort.

 

Therein was the second problem.

 

The terror of Voldemort was still hanging around, and Harry’s Auror Department had collaborated with the Hit Wizards over the past three or four years to inspect some new activity around the Balkans that he personally believed might be linked with the release of one of Voldemort’s key generals from Nurmengard - who had been appointed after Karkaroff - after it was proven the man was too sick to survive more than eighty days. It had been a mercy plea that won the German Ministry over, and several endorsements from Asian and European countries - bar the United Kingdom - had culminated in the man being pardoned. Harry supposed that the prisoner - the Brits were calling him Valkyrie for now - hadn’t committed any of the heinous crimes Karkaroff had so freely involved himself with (really, giving Greyback sanctuary and letting him turn as many wizards and witches into werewolves to build an army for the Dark Lord was the only crime Valkyrie was charged with and imprisoned for three months after his involvement had been discovered) and somehow, the wasting disease had been contained and Valkyrie survived.

 

Sicily might not be in the Balkans, but three months ago, one of the Radars - a Hit Wizard who gathered intelligence - had sent a missive to Harry about spotting Antonin Dolohov on the streets of Grindelwald’s hometown with a wizard whose description matched the files he had reviewed on Valkyrie.

 

The problem was, Harry had been the one to capture Dolohov when he was escaping from Istanbul, and when the Death Eater had struggled with the magical handcuffs, Harry had hit him with a stunner so powerful that two of his ribs had cracked. Dolohov died four months later in Azkaban after a self imposed starvation. Harry had verified the man and lowered the body into the hole himself because he wanted to be __sure__ he had successfully neutered a threat.

 

(Also, there had been an immense satisfaction and self righteousness that day when he floo-ed to Andy’s home and hugged and kissed Teddy, almost crying because he had finally avenged his Remus Lupin’s death, and it had felt amazing when he had sent Teddy upstairs for a minute and told Andy steadily that Dolohov was dead, and Harry had set the grave on fire after the Mage had laid the plain tombstone marker at the Azkaban graveyard. Andy had held his face firm in her soft hands and kissed both cheeks in gratitude and they had cried all over again for a man whose life had been a Shakespearean tragedy he had never quite escaped from.)

 

Harry didn’t think this was an accident, and MacDonald agreed with him. But for security concerns, it had been the Director’s decision to __pretend__ that it was an isolated accident, and Harry was glad that from his vantage point, at least, everyone else seemed to be buying that. He rubbed his head tiredly and from somewhere in the center of the room, his brother - in - law spotted him alone and nose turning a Weasley red from the Ice Mice and excused himself from the group of witches he was talking to.

 

“Fuller is a bit of a wanker, eh?”

 

Percy poured for himself some of the black coffee and grimaced before he gave his cup a good slosh. Harry rolled his eyes at the thought of the smug American wizard.

 

“ _ _Bit__ of a?” he repeated, and Percy smirked. Harry pointed at the room resettling itself in the chairs assigned and the screen shimmered back to life, and it showed Agatha Tottenbridge - a former Unspeakable who had been promoted out of retirement to be the ICW British representative after Voldemort’s death - and her assistant take their seats, each of them still chewing their pastries even as they sat. “What’s that pasty looking bloke in the corner doing?”

 

Pasty was a pretty good description of the long faced man in a dark suit and a pencil mustache sitting behind the Italian Representative - a dark skinned bulky wizard in olive green named Antonia de Silva - and looking very uncomfortable at all the discussion that was taking place before him.

 

“That’s from the Vatican,” Percy said with a shrug. “They’re always so pasty during negotiations.”

 

Harry looked at Percy blankly. “Vatican? You mean, from the Pope?”

 

Percy took another sip of his dark coffee.

 

“Yes. Traditionally, the Vatican Rep is a muggle or a Squib pointman between the Pope and the Italian Ministry. Wizarding Sicily is where the Pope exiled 724 practitioners of Magic in 1923. Those Catholics call magic Satan’s gift and aren’t too opposed to burning witches and wizards at a stake. This Pope’s been pretending him and his wizard liaison - that pasty guy? - aren’t aware of the wizarding world until now.”

 

Harry’s question flew out of his mouth before he could even think about it.

 

“Why isn’t nobody talking to him then?”

 

Percy blanched like he had forgotten something important. Harry continued.

 

“If the Pope’s word has influence to a degree that he is being made aware of the negotiations, why not let Madam Tottenbridge appeal to the Pope’s man in the confederation and promise swift justice and utmost secrecy?”

 

Percy downed the rest of his coffee in a single gulp and winced lightly when the liquid singed his tongue. He clapped Harry on his shoulder and threw the cup into the bin which tore into the plastic immediately and gave out a little burp when it had crunched and swallowed.

 

“Thanks for that,” Percy said. Shaking his head, he kept muttering as he made his way to one of the negotiation monitors. “I can’t believe we overlooked that.”

 

The girl to whom Percy had finished speaking to turned to look at Harry in shock and open admiration. Harry only had to raise an eyebrow for her to blush, and then lean forward to place her wand in the wand holster. A pale light grew at the bottom indicating her connection with the Council room downstairs.

 

She spoke into her wand, “Madam Tottenbridge, this is monitor NM 231 speaking with Percy I Weasley, Office of International Magical Co-Operation. You are advised to address - um, Mr Ricci - behind Representative de Silva thus: ‘Mr Ricci, I notice you have been silent throughout the discussion. What is the Pope’s view?’ Tug on your right earlobe if you consent on the course of action.”

 

Once the instructions were relayed, she pulled out her wand and with two bright blotches on her cheeks settled back in her seat. Harry thought this was the first time the girl had done something like this. Everyone in the room had their eyes fixed on the screen. The Scottish Rep was trying to ration with de Silva when it happened.

 

Agatha Tottenbridge twisted her body to the left and now that Harry had built a lifetime career of spotting things that did not belong to their environment, he could see the modified Extendable Ear button inside her eardrum that allowed the Ministry negotiators behind the imperturbable shield to talk to her through their wands when they were inserted into the line of holsters.Then, she pulled on her earlobe twice. A low whoop ran around the room, and Harry grinned, still not taking his eyes off the screen.

 

“Mr Ricci, I have to interrupt,” Tottenbridge said imperatively, cutting into the conversation with great expertise. “I am a little concerned that you haven’t been participating in the discussion, sir. I speak for everyone when I say we are all eager to know of His Holiness’… _ _concerns__ about this incident.”

 

Harry noticed surprise on the American wizard’s face and he quickly turned behind him to ask his aide about what was happening. The Italian representative, however, seemed relieved to have had a reprieve from a possible shouting match and moved out of the frame so his Vatican counterpart could carry on with his response.

 

“The Pope wants this to end swiftly,” Ricci said sharply, his lips thinning into an unhappy expression. “He would appreciate and offer his support for any clandestine operation that does not tarnish the name of the Church or Rome.”

 

Tottenbridge looked pleased.

 

“That’s settled then,” she said brightly. “Am I to now assume that if appealed through you, the Pope would be amenable to granting the British Ministry of Magic to deliver justice and award proper punishment for the criminal?”

 

“Yes.”

 

On noticing the American’s cry of outrage, Tottenbridge looked at him with poorly hidden patronage. “Of course, we will work with the MACUSA. After all, they do have to keep Interpol off our backs.”

 

Several people burst into laughter, and it only took Ricci five and a half minutes to sign the document that allowed the British custody of the preserved body and promised that the American and the Italian Ministries of Magic would offer any resources the British Aurors asked for. The video crystals were removed from their Omnicular box sets and quickly dropped into vials of Preserving Potion to be sent down to the Archives. The screen that had displayed the proceedings was down, and Tottenbridge and her assistant quickly made their way upstairs.

 

Loud applause greeted the two women when they walked in, and Tottenbridge, ancient as she might have been, still did a little twirl and gave the large piece of document to the highest ranking Ministry official in the room - Gareth MacDonald. Several wizards and witches in purple robes clamored around the Director - including Percy - and Harry only could hide his smirk at how uncomfortable his boss looked at the sudden attention. MacDonald was so much like Moody that way, grumpy when people surrounded him with questions that didn't have anything to do with catching Dark Wizards. 

 

“Was you pointing out Ricci a fluke of genius, or were you having a little fun with a Ranking Committee Member of the Department of International Magical Co - Operation?”

 

Harry grimaced a little on realizing that it was Madam Tottenbridge who had demanded of him an answer.

 

“How would you even __know__ that I had any say in the negotiations?”

 

Tottenbridge narrowed her light eyes even as her assistant stood at a respectable hearing distance behind her, squirming.

 

“Because I know you, Potter,” she declared with an ugly twist of her mouth. “Always poking your nose into things it didn’t belong in. Besides, I can’t help but notice that you haven’t joined in on the celebrations and more than several of the young ones are passing glances of admiration here.”

 

“That could be because I am a good - looking and powerful wizard,” Harry argued back feebly, noticing that indeed, more than a dozen pairs of eyes were fixed upon him and Tottenbridge with varying degrees of poorly concealed jealousy and respect. Tottenbridge had a reputation of __not__ talking to anyone - except the Minister - and Harry did not need to wonder why a few elder wizards looked like they wanted to strangle him. Tottenbridge was being relieved of her duties by the end of the year, and it was poorly hidden knowledge at the Ministry that she was being allowed to handpick her own successor rather than let the Head of DMLE and IMC decide. Harry had the inane urge to reassure his onlookers that there was no way Tottenbridge would pick him; she had __loathed__  Dumbledore, and Harry was perhaps the last person the ancient Headmaster had considered family.

 

“I just want to catch the killer,” Harry mumbled when Tottenbridge kept on staring at him in a pretty unnerving fashion. “My Continental Auror Division is getting a little rusty without any field work.”

 

She rolled her eyes at that and said loudly, “Well let’s hope all my hard work isn’t for naught, Head Auror Potter.” She shook his hands vigourously, and snapped at her assistant. “Stop drooling over the Head Auror, girl, we have places to be.”

 

With a flair of her skirt, and an apologetic look from the assistant, Tottenbridge disappeared from view and Harry scratched the back of his neck, aware that conversations in the room had stopped and everyone was now looking at him. MacDonald broke the ice.

 

He threw the heavy document to where Harry was standing, and he immediately caught it, his reflexes kicking in automatically. His chest throbbed dully from where the folder had hit him, but he managed to raise one of his eyebrows at his boss in question.

 

“Go get ‘em, Potter. It’s an order.”

 

Harry saluted cheekily. “Yes sir, Mr Director.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hate the plot of Cursed Child. But, I have borrowed certain things from it. I've always toyed with the idea of giving one of the Potter kids a learning disability, and since CC says that Al wasn't good at magic, I gave him dyslexia. I MAY expand more on the fic, and develop this into a mini ficlet of how much of a cinnamon role HJP is and explore Al's future, but for now, this is the end. Hope you liked it!
> 
> CHIARAC: I really really hope you'll like this. <3 Thanks for all your lovely comments!


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